A Clock Is Ticking
by Kristen999
Summary: Another bad guy, another dangerous threat. One more time into the abyss for Steve and Danny. (Post season 7. No real spoilers.)


**kristen999**

 **Summary:**

Another bad guy, another dangerous threat. One more time into the abyss for Steve and Danny.

 **Notes:**

For gaelicspirit.

Set after season 7, but no real spoilers. sh.  
Warnings for language and violent imagery.

Happy belated birthday Gaelicspirit! I hope I came close enough to your prompt. *smish*  
Thank you to beta reader imaginary_iby for her crit and suggestions!

* * *

Danny was bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth when the call came in – Duke was a pro, he'd seen it all, but his voice cracked with anxiety over the radio.

After transferring his coffee from his favorite mug into a Styrofoam cup, Danny tried drinking it while gripping the door handle. It was pointless. Steve broke every traffic law on the drive from the Palace, hurtling down a narrow stretch of road off the Kamehameha Highway and grinding to a stop near the Dole Pineapple Plant.

There had to be half a dozen squad cars parked off the side of the road. The coffee settled heavy in his belly and to top it off, Danny couldn't find the breath mints he usually kept in the glove compartment.

It was beautiful outside, warm air beat on his face and a breeze from the west kept the temperature comfortable. A morbid thought entered his mind as he approached the carnage: did any of these people see the sun rise this morning?

Steve stood with Duke, the lines of his mouth thin. "What do we have?"

Tani, Junior, and Lou took position around as Duke spoke. "This looks like some kind of transport. There were two SUVs, a lead car, and one that trailed a large cargo van. The lead SUV hit a mine or some type of IED, killing the driver and the passenger."

Junior gripped the sides of his TAC vest, his eyes flicking between the burning car and Steve, their neutral expressions mirroring each other. Danny folded his arms across his chest, a sick feeling in his gut.

Duke watched the coroner's van park behind Lou's truck. "The people in the other SUV were killed as they exited their vehicle, we suspect from a sniper up the hill."

Danny frowned and stared at the spider web of cracks on the van's windshield. "That looks like ballistic glass."

"It is." Duke gestured at the vehicle. "The two people inside are dead, but we won't have a COD until we can free the bodies and an autopsy is conducted."

Mysterious van with bullet-proof glass gets ambushed in the middle of nowhere; all the hair along the back of Danny's neck stood up. He watched Lou start walking around the perimeter as members of the HPD began setting up road blocks to contain the scene.

Steve walked toward the van and crouched down, scanning the ground. "We've got some type of canisters beneath the vehicle. Could be what was responsible for killing those inside. Be sure to tell the CSI guys to exercise extreme caution when they collect them."

Standing, he walked toward the rear of the van. Danny followed, careful where he stepped to avoid compromising possible evidence. Tani and Junior followed behind him.

The back doors looked like they'd been pried open, whatever was inside had been heavy, a set of tracks lead off to the side of the road.

Tani inched closer and stared into the empty cargo hold. "What the hell were they transporting?"

Releasing a heavy breath, Steve took in the giant van and turned around to survey the massive scene. "And who has the money and talent to pull off what looks like a military operation to steal whatever was inside?"

* * *

Given the scope of the attack, their evidence was overwhelming: ballistics, the physical crime scene, fingerprints, vehicles, and the bodies. They had to divide and conquer.

Danny stared at the overhead screen from the surface table, reading the initial report. "Eric identified the weapon used to shoot-up the SUV taking up the rear; it was a Heckler & Koch MG4 sub-machine gun."

"That's German Army issue," Steve said surprised. He tapped the surface keyboard, flipping through more crime scene photos.

"Stop right there," Danny told him, paging through the ballistics report. "This is weird; the sniper casings are from Ruag Swiss P Subsonic rounds."

Steve's expression darkened. "That's expensive, elite ammo."

Danny did not like where all these puzzle pieces were falling. "There also wasn't a single finger print from any of the shell casings and all the tires tracks from the scene are from a 2006 Jeep Wrangler."

"The scene was scrubbed clean and the tire tracks are from the most popular jeep sold on Oahu."

A perfectly executed operation. The effectiveness of the ambush made Danny's skin crawl; this was Hawaii, not a war-zone, not a scene from a spy thriller.

These victims soiled their clothes in death, their last thoughts filled with terror.

Danny watched Steve as he rolled through crime scene photos again. What did Steve see when he scrutinized the screen? Did he visualize strategies, his brain automatically filling in the missing blanks?

Danny shook his head to rid his brain of such thoughts.

"Sirs." Junior walked over with a file, his usual neutral expression pinched. "I just got the report back from the lab on those canisters used to kill the passengers inside the van." Hesitant, he waited until Steve nodded in impatience before continuing. "They contained Agent Orange."

"Agent Orange?" The color drained from Steve's face, he looked up at the screen, the intensity level in the room doubling with the heat of his gaze. "European weapons, agent orange, and a sophisticated ambush."

This felt like some black-ops, Special Forces scary bullshit. A shudder went down Danny's back.

Steve ran through the crime scene photos again, flicking back and forth between them, over and over again. It made Danny nauseous.

Junior studied Steve, flicking his gaze from him to Danny as if wanted to say something, but was still unsure about speaking up. "Do you recognize a signature, sir?"

"Maybe."

Steve spent the next hour going through all two hundred photos as if he'd glean some hidden clue from them.

* * *

While the forensics moved at a snail's pace, trying to identify the victims was even slower. The nature of the crime was already suspicious, so the fact that none of victims' fingerprints were in the system was even less of surprise.

Danny kept waiting for an alarm to beep and for their entire computer network to shut-down from running the prints through every known data base. Either their vics were ghosts or worse, they were spooks.

He glanced over at Steve's office wondering if he was running into as many dead-ends. Steve was never subtle when he started reaching out to his old contacts, but the one thing Steve did not have was Jerry Ortega – who came bounding toward Danny like he'd discovered Bigfoot's hidden lair.

"I've been digging through message boards on the dark web about today's attack and recent chatter says that the people who were killed were engineers with a big contract with DARPA."

"DARPA?" Danny grimaced, hating this case more and more. "The people who make top-secret weapons for the government?"

"Yep." Jerry cleared his throat, unable to look at the crime scene photos still up on the screen. "Whatever those people were transporting was probably highly classified."

Danny looked over at Steve's office, a heavy knot of apprehension forming inside his stomach.

* * *

As more lab results filtered through, the larger the knot inside Danny's gut grew. He recognized a Steve McGarrett obsession, when Steve filtered the rest of the team out and zoned-in on something.

So, Danny did whatever he could to keep Steve from falling into an abyss. He brewed coffee and ordered lunch, handing Steve water bottles and a club sandwich.

He coordinated the case with Tani, Junior and Lou while their boss sequestered himself in his office, pacing back and forth on his cell-phone, or staring at his laptop like it might produce the magical needed puzzle piece.

When Tani returned with the latest report-they really owed Eric and the lab guys a case of good beer for working this hard-Danny walked with her into Steve's office.

"What do you got?" Steve demanded.

Danny sighed.

Tani quirked eyebrow at Steve's tone. "We found two cigarette butts up on a hill about two hundred yards away from the scene."

"The sniper's nest."

"Yeah. We didn't find any DNA," Tani said, hurrying to the end of the report, her voice thick with excitement. "But the cigarettes are a very unusual brand. Sobranie Blues." She placed the report on Steve's desk as she bounced on her heels; this was definitely a break in the case.

Grabbing the report, Steve scanned the results, his eyes growing large. "That sonofabitch."

He stood up so fast, his chair slammed the wall. His chest heaving, Steve stared at his desk, at the ceiling, at the wall, a wall that Danny was sure Steve was going to punch any second.

"Hey," Danny said, walking over, touching Steve's shoulder, squeezing the tense muscle beneath his hand. "Let's take a walk. We need air, lots of fresh air, come on."

Tani scurried out of the way, which Danny was grateful for. He corralled Steve out of his office and toward the nearest exit in an attempt to avoid needless destruction of furniture and potential damage to Steve's fingers.

* * *

It was cloudy and the gentle breeze from earlier was now a strong wind from an approaching weather system. After guiding Steve into the back parking-lot, Danny allowed him to pace in front of his truck to release some of the excess energy.

After the sixth or seventh circuit, Steve stopped and ran a hand over his face.

Danny leaned on the side of the truck bed and chewed on his bottom lip. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"I….not right now."

"That's not a good answer."

"It's complicated."

"The only person making this complicated is you, Steve."

The muscle along Steve's jaw jumped and he looked out at the horizon. "I recognize this M.O. from my time in Naval Intel. Colonel Dudaev, a terrorist I chased for a long time. But he died in a helicopter crash."

"I hate to ask, but are you sure? Did you see a body?" Danny sighed when he saw a flicker of doubt in Steve's eyes. "All right, why don't we go back inside and you can fill us all in on who you suspect is behind this."

* * *

Danny grew up on slideshows of family picnics, holiday celebrations, and embarrassing things like school plays. Slideshows took on a more nightmarish association once he joined the police force.

He drank a whole bottle of water during Steve's presentation of grisly nightmares. Pictures from redacted after-action reports from countries Steve did not identify.

A mortar attack on a Red Cross camp.

A train derailment.

The remains of a school after an explosion.

Tani didn't stop fidgeting while Junior stood stock-still.

Lou left the office after slide number six and returned for slide number seven.

Danny held up his hand. "We get it; Colonel Dudaev was an evil asshole that deserved to have every bone in his body broken."

"I spent four years tracking Dudaev from Lebanon to Turkmenistan, all the way to Tunisia. But his favorite playground was Russia's North Caucasus region. He was a Chechen rebel leader who started selling his expertise to the highest bidder."

"I take it you were supposed to capture him?" Tani asked.

Junior cleared his throat and Steve nodded at him. "My task was to seek and destroy."

Danny flicked his gaze at the remaining slide. "Which you thought you'd already accomplished?"

"Yeah." Steve got a far-off look in his eye, his gaze not in the present, but undoubtedly pulled back in the horror of those slides. "My team had him on the run for days. He tried escaping by helo and we shot him down. There weren't supposed to be any survivors."

"You didn't get a confirmation?" Lou asked.

"We were on the border of Pakistan and China; we weren't allowed to retrieve the bodies of wreckage. Chinese Intelligence sent JSOC proof of death. Four months later, I returned to Hawaii and created Five-0.

Junior crossed his arms and looked over at Steve. "What about today's scene makes you think Dudaev is our suspect?"

"While he built his reputation as a terrorist for hire, he was a formable enemy and tactician. Not only did he smuggle the remains of Agent Orange out of Vietnam, he loved using it on Russian and American forces. It became his signature."

"Could it be one of cronies?" Lou asked. "Maybe one of his Lieutenants, or something?"

"Except for those Sobranie Blues," Danny postulated. "Let me guess, this Dudaev smoked them." Because Steve hadn't gone ballistic until Tani had brought that report.

"They're his favorite brand."

But why leave behind such a damming piece of evidence? Then again what were the chances that anyone would ever make such a connection to Dudaev?

There was no reason to doubt Steve; his instincts were usually on the mark, but this…

Someone knocked on the door making Tani jump. Cursing, she opened the door to a very excitable Jerry.

"Look, I know you're in the middle of a super-secret meeting that I wasn't invited to, although I was really busy with my own super-secret meeting. _Online._ But –"

"Jerry," Steve growled. "What is it?"

"I know what the mystery van was transporting."

* * *

"It's an EMP weapon."

Danny stared at Jerry and waited for him to make sense.

Jerry stared back. "Do you need some clarity?"

"Yeah, Jerry, I think we do," Danny told him.

"An Electromagnetic Pulse is an instantaneous burst of high power energy which can disable or destroy all electrical and telecommunication lines. Basically it could interrupt all electronic devices; interrupt all critical businesses and anything that controls life support systems."

"You do know that we're not living in a sci-fi drama, right?" Danny asked. He never knew with Jerry.

"It's a real threat," Jerry said, giving him a serious expression. "Many countries have been experimenting with such technology, from high-altitude bombs to pulse microwave weapons."

Steve got that look in his eye again, the one that promised either acts of violence and leaps of logic. "And Dudaev might have stolen one…"

* * *

Steve knew a lot of important people. Danny was always impressed with the number of military, government, and political movers and shakers that Steve had programmed on his cell phone or kept in some mysterious black book.

The military were on alert, every available HPD unit had been dispatched to major areas of the city, and the governor had called four times in the last hour.

Lou walked toward Danny with two cups of coffee. "Well, every member of law enforcement is searching for this guy."

Dudaev, a cold-blooded mercenary who murdered civilians and children for money, a guy who they had no current intel on. Steve didn't even have access to his Naval Intel files.

Danny took the offered second cup, but he was so caffeinated he could barely see straight. "If Dudaev is even on the island anymore. If he stole some electronic-super weapon, he might be halfway around the world to sell it to the highest bidder."

Lou released an audible breath. "How's he doing?"

Steve's name wasn't mentioned, but Danny knew who Lou was worried about. "He's calling in every favor and putting his career on the line for an island-wide manhunt to go after a terrorist that we don't even know is alive. Steve doesn't even have a recent picture of what he looks like."

Lou drew his lips into a frown, but anything else he had to add to the conversation was interrupted when Tani walked over, her eyes wide.

"What's the matter?" Danny asked, stepping closer.

"I…I just got a voicemail…" swallowing, Tani looked over at them. "It was from Aaron Wright. It's a message for McGarrett."

* * *

Tani's cell phone was set on the top of Steve's desk like it was a ticking bomb.

Danny wasn't sure who was more pissed by that bastard's intrusion into their lives: Lou or Tani. Aaron's brother had kidnapped Lou's daughter, and Wright had escaped Tani's custody on her first day on the job.

Putting the phone on speaker, Tani played the message.

" _Hello Commander McGarrett. I know you're currently very busy, so I'll get to the point. This morning, I ran across some communications that I thought you should be aware of."_

Danny flicked his gaze at Steve who stared at the phone with disdain.

" _At three o'clock this afternoon, someone is going to donate an EMP burst from an experimental weapon. This test will be conducted as proof of effectiveness before a dark web auction."_

"Jesus," Lou cursed.

" _If proven effective, this EMP burst will destroy all electronics in a three mile radius. Hospitals, traffic controls, computers….well you get my drift."_

"Why is he telling is this?" Tani asked. "What's his play?"

" _While I relish watching this island plunge into total chaos and destruction…Believe it or not, I actually have a few friends, not many, but a few. And one of them is on a flight coming in around the same time…" Wright snorted. "I think you can put the pieces of this very simple puzzle together. I don't need to paint you a picture. I did send you a file just now, so you can check for yourself."_

The voicemail ended, plunging the room into silence.

* * *

The power-grid, communications, refrigeration, computers, and yes, air traffic controls and in-bound planes all could be crippled by an EMP weapon - thousands of possible causalities.

Danny rubbed a hand over his face as he scoured every scientific article on the internet. He stood up to grab something from the vending machine when he found Duke standing in his doorway.

"Is it true? About this…new weapon?" Duke asked.

"It's possible. We can't know for sure."

Duke looked down at the floor then back up at Danny, swallowing. "My mother…she's in the ICU. I don't…what should I do? I don't even know if it's possible to move her?"

Tightness filled Danny's chest, because he didn't have an answer, didn't know if the weapon was real or if it'd plunge part of the city into chaos. He rested a hand on Duke's shoulder. "She's safer surrounded by the hospital staff. I wouldn't risk moving her, not when it could just put her in more danger."

"Yeah, okay. I think you're right." Duke gave Danny's arm a squeeze. "Thank you."

* * *

Danny winced when Steve kicked the small metal trashcan out of the way, at least he didn't throw his phone; he needed it to terrorize people.

"Babe," Danny said, fumbling for the right words.

Steve's nostrils widened, his face reddening with every word. "The governor won't activate the National Guard and I'm being stonewalled by the Army and Navy."

It was enraging. Danny grit his teeth, his own frustration boiling over from the bureaucracy. "How many times have we saved the island from other terrorist threats?"

Growling, Steve paced in front of his desk. "We don't have proof of a credible threat and unless the highest level of the military is willing to declassify a top-secret weapon's project, then I'm not going to have the needed backing to green-light state-wide emergency measures."

But there was still one other possibility.

"Could this maybe be just all a ruse?"

"I trust my gut, Danny."

"And I trust your gut, too." Danny bit his bottom lip. "Do you think Dudaev would actually use it and become the world's most wanted terrorist?"

The muscle along Steve's jaw twitched. "I remember this one time when my team had a lead on Dudaev in the mountains. We had him on the run…he didn't have an escape route so he..." Steve cleared his throat, his voice thick. "Dudaev set a village on fire…the huts were made out of dry wood and mud and…" Steve started shaking. "And the screams of those caught in the fire…their screams…."

Danny walked over and pulled Steve close, enveloping him in the fiercest, strongest hug that he could offer. Steve all but collapsed against him, squeezing Danny until it was hard to breathe – but Danny stood tall, providing support and compassion.

And he'd do it for as long as Steve needed.

* * *

After Steve had confided in Danny, all Danny wanted to do was hug Grace and Charlie and never let them go; maybe take Steve and the kids on a long vacation, away from bad guys and terror threats, where the only care in the world was how long to nap for.

And Lord, they all had earned it. A pang of fear went through his chest, long and aching. Why did he always wait until there was a crisis before he thought about life's pleasantries?

* * *

Danny remembered a hot sticky summer day in Jersey when one of the power transmitters caught fire and the power went out on ten city blocks. Two vehicles crashed at the main intersections, slid over to the north side, and then smashed into a pedestrian crossing the street.

Now faced with the possibility of similar chaos in Hawaii, he didn't need to look outside to guess how many cars were on the road, or check the airline schedule at the number of planes en-route to the Honolulu airport, or…

Heart pounding, Danny pulled out his cell phone to tell Rachel to pick up Grace and Charlie and take them to the far end of the island. Except what if it was in the wrong direction? No, he'd have Rachel take Grace and Charlie home, keep them off the streets and out of danger.

* * *

Danny leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his burning eyes. He only wanted ten minutes to sit in his office and give himself a few seconds to regroup—but suddenly Duke called with a possible location for Dudaev and it was off to the races.

* * *

The problem with tips was they needed to be verified. They had a probable location: a set of warehouses that took up several city-blocks, however most available units were stretched across Oahu conducting the manhunt.

Since it was Saturday the complex was practically abandoned; it was the perfect spot for a possible weapons test.

They parked in an alley behind a nearby building and started to gear-up. It always took Steve the longest, running his gun belt through the loops of his pants, attaching his thigh holster, his knife holster.

By the time Steve was done, Danny had already performed their weapons checks.

Steve walked over and checked the tabs to Danny's vest, ensuring they were pulled tight. Danny repeated the safety check on Steve's vest as Junior, Tani, and Lou did the same for each other.

Walking in front of each of them, Steve conducted an extra inspection of everyone's gear. "We'll spit into teams. Junior and Tani go with Lou to the west end of the complex. Danny and I will investigate the east end. Maintain radio silence unless you spot the suspect."

"If we locate the suspect, do you want us to engage?" Junior asked.

"Negative," Steve said. "If you locate Dudaev, call for back-up. We'll coordinate with SWAT and HPD to apprehend him."

Junior gripped his MK-18 and stared at Steve. It was obvious he wanted to join his boss into the fray, but the chain of command was still woven into his bones and he followed Tani and Lou in the other direction.

"That kid is loyal to a fault," Danny said.

Steve stared at his watch. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

Sweat pooled between Danny's shoulder blades, the humidity sucking away his energy with every step. He took point as they made their way along the wall of the warehouse checking for an entrance.

His skin itched and his throat suddenly became dry, but he didn't have any water on him. He tried not to cough.

The side of the warehouse stretched at least twenty meters, the metal siding reflecting the built-up heat from the day. They hugged the wall in tandem, locating a single metal door of a side entrance.

Danny tested the knob, but it was locked. He debated kicking it in, but the noise could alert anyone inside of their presence.

There was a building adjacent to them, a section with a garage door, probably for deliveries. Garage doors were a direct way inside, but they meant exposure. Danny flicked his eyes in Steve's direction in question.

Steve clenched his jaw and shook his head. Danny agreed with his assessment.

Backing up a few steps, Danny pulled out the small leather pouch with his lock picking tools. With Steve guarding his back, Danny made quick work with the pin tumblers, and shoved his kit back into his back pocket.

Remaining alert, Danny inched open the door, his eyes darting around. He noticed the trip-wire by his ankles, the edge of the door that he was holding, pressed against it.

"Steve," he said, sucking in a shuddering breath. It took every ounce of energy to remain motionless.

"Don't move."

"Wasn't planning on it." And damn it, this felt like _déjà vu_ all over again.

Shouldering his rifle, Steve knelled beside Danny's legs, studying the trap. "Okay, this is a simple trip-wire. Don't move the door in one direction or another."

"Right." Danny kept his arm locked in place, his muscles quivering. "Got it."

"If you give me a minute, I can disarm this." Steve looked up at him, locking his eyes with Danny's. "I'll get you out of this. I promise."

"I know you will." Danny didn't have any doubt that Steve would fix this; even if he had to break the freaking law of physics somehow.

As soon as Steve bent down to get a closer look, Danny caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "Steve!"

Four heavily armed men emerged out of the garage.

"I see them." Steve rose to his feet in a single motion. "Whatever happens, don't budge," he growled, touching Danny's shoulder before taking off like a shot.

* * *

Danny gripped the door while all he wanted to do was bolt. He couldn't even move to reach his weapon to help Steve…

Steve, who didn't have cover or concealment as four bad guys started shooting at him – Steve, who pulled out a grenade and lobbed it as he dived to the ground –Steve who lay flat on his belly and fired at those still moving, shooting them in the lower extremities.

Never had Danny felt such relief at Steve's ability to take out bad guys. Steve incapacitated anyone left with quick blows to the head with the end of his rifle. It was ruthless and efficient.

Steve was back at Danny's side in seconds.

Danny's heart pounded and his hand ached from gripping the door knob so hard. "Remind me to thank the US Navy for teaching you to be you."

"Remember the combat breathing technique I taught you?" Steve asked, getting on his hands and knees.

"Yeah." Danny hated how his voice trembled.

 _Breath in, count to four. Hold your breath, count to four. Exhale, count to four._

"You're going to be fine, Danny. I just need to find the…" Steve stretched and twisted his body at a ridiculous angle. "Wait, there it is…"

"What? Actually never mind, I don't want to know." Danny focused all his energy on watching their backs and being still.

"It's a simple...hold on." Steve's hand reached down his thigh and pulled out a pocket knife. "Are you keeping an eye out for –"

"Yes, yes," Danny said, staring at the garage. "We're clear."

"And we're…." Steve let out a large exhale and bowed his head. "We're clear here, too."

Danny's heart flipped inside his chest. "Thank God." He released his death grip on the door handle, all his adrenaline bottoming out, his muscles jelly. "I think I'm cursed."

"You're not cursed." Steve got to his feet and gave Danny's arm a squeeze. "We've got to keep moving though. That ambush means we're in the right spot. I'll radio the others for back-up."

Danny adjusted the shoulder strap to his rifle, readying his weapon. He glanced at the garage where the bad guys had tried to attack them, his pulse still racing. A drop of sweat rolled down his eyebrow. "That was some miraculous timing. Almost like…"

Steve got a horrible look in his eyes then he started shoving Danny inside. "We've got to—" Steve's body jerked and his back slammed against the open door.

Danny's brain registered _sniper_ \- then he grabbed Steve by the vest and yanked him inside, Danny's rifle dangling between him and Steve.

"Damn it," Danny cursed, his heart a kick drum in his chest. "Fuck."

Danny draped Steve's arm around his shoulders and dragged him along, kicking the door closed with his boot. He had no clue if anyone was waiting to ambush, or outflank them. His only concern was to get Steve to cover.

Steve made horrible sounds of pain in Danny's ear. "It's okay, it's okay, babe. Just a little further."

Steve's feet fumbled for purchase and Danny tightened his arm around Steve's waist, taking on more of his weight while navigating around crates and stacks of wooden pallets.

Move, don't stop moving. He needed to create as much distance between them and the shooter. It was hard shouldering a hundred and seventy pounds of muscle. Danny adjusted Steve's arm around his shoulder, causing Steve to holler in agony before dropping like a weight.

"Whoa." Danny groaned with the effort of keeping Steve from crashing to the floor.

Spotting a couple of giant recycling dumpsters, he carried Steve to the side of one of them and eased him to the floor. Panting, Danny whirled around, aiming his weapon at empty space.

They were clear, for now.

"Okay, we're okay." He knelt beside Steve, eyes searching for where the bullet struck his vest.

Steve groaned as Danny quickly undid the tabs. The energy of a bullet hitting Kevlar could break ribs or cause a lung injury, or…Danny removed the vest, his fingers coming away moist.

"No, no, no." Danny spotted blood seeping from a wound high up on Steve's right shoulder. "Jesus, how…"

"Ruag Swiss…ammo… is AP…"

Armor piercing.

"Damn it," Danny growled. "Why didn't…never mind." He sucked in a breath, trying to calm his thundering pulse. "I need to check and see if it's a through and through."

Steve gave a curt nod in permission, his complexion already grey. Danny rolled Steve onto his side; Steve groaned with the motion. "I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry."

He checked Steve's back, but couldn't find any holes, his hands gently ghosting over the area. Then he noticed the blood soaking through the front of Steve' shirt. The exit wound was at the top of Steve's shoulder. His fear-level shot up. The bullet must've ricocheted before exiting.

"H-how…bad?"

Danny carefully settled Steve onto his back. "It um…the bullet entered around the fourth or fifth rib and exited around the collarbone." He didn't mention it was probably fractured based on the pain-level Steve experienced with any movement.

"We've…." Steve groaned again, squeezing his eyes closed as sweat matted down the hair to his forehead "We've…"

"We've got to move, yeah, I know that. But we need to stabilize you first."

Danny located the emergency medical kit Steve kept in a small pack attached to his vest. He quickly pulled out two pressure bandages and dropped them on Steve's legs. Pulling out his pocket knife, Danny went about cutting slits in Steve's shirt, baring his shoulder.

He had to control the bleeding. The exit wound was the largest; he'd start with the top part of the shoulder. Pulling away the pieces of the black t-shirt Danny grimaced; the blood was a dark bluish red. The bullet must've injured a vein or maybe an artery. _No, not an artery._ He wouldn't think that way.

Danny applied the first pressure bandage to the wound, attaching the adhesive strips to keep it in place, blood spreading beneath his fingertips.

There were a few ways to stem blood loss. Normally, applying pressure would do the trick. But given the darker color of blood, Danny knew from his medical training that he needed to find a pressure point to constrict the artery feeding blood to the open wound.

Danny imagined where everything was in the shoulder and pressed his thumb hard against the subclavian artery that ran right above the injury.

Steve moaned, squirming in reaction, but Danny didn't have a choice and it killed him.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'm sorry." And damn it, he was racing against two ticking clocks – time didn't stop because one of them was bleeding out. He bit his lip. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

Steve turned his head in Danny's direction but didn't open his eyes. "Y-yeah."

"Good. I need you to keep applying pressure." Danny took Steve's left hand and placed it over the bandage. "Use your thumb. Do you understand?"

Steve mumbled something, but he curled his hand and pressed against the dressing.

"Good, good, keep doing that."

Danny repeated the process with the second hole, ripping open and applying the pressure bandage to the entrance wound. Almost every inch of Steve's exposed skin was stained red.

Checking their surroundings again, Danny kept pressure on the entrance wound while he pulled out his cell phone with his left hand. Fumbling with it, he hit the fourth person on speed dial.

"Come on, come on," he mumbled after the fourth ring.

" _Danny,"_ Lou answered. _"What's –"_

"We need back-up at our position. Steve's been shot and there are an unknown number of suspects. I repeat, we need immediate back-up." He heard Lou yell at the others in the background. "We're going to need a medevac on stand-by."

" _Stay put. We're coming to you."_

Danny heard movement coming from somewhere in the warehouse. Shit. "Negative. I've got targets approaching. They've got a sniper with armor piercing bullets," he hissed in warning before shoving the phone back into his pants pocket.

He heard two voices, one hushing the other.

Danny laid his hand on top of Steve's arm. "Keep applying pressure. Okay?"

Steve nodded as he kept his hand on the bandage.

"I'll be right back," Danny promised.

* * *

The receiving area was filled with pallets stacked high enough to reach Danny's shoulders. Keeping low, Danny took cover behind the first set, and stared through the entry-space between each slat to watch two men enter the area.

He imagined the space as a clock. Danny was in the center. Bad guys were at his two o'clock. Steve was hidden behind some crates at his seven o'clock.

Keeping his M8 aimed in their direction, Danny kept pace, watching and walking around the giant wooden stacks, keeping them in constant view. But he couldn't risk firing his weapon and drawing more attention toward him. Risking Steve.

White-knuckling his grip, he rounded the pallets, keeping both suspects in front of him. Holding his breath, Danny rushed up behind them.

He bashed the first guy in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle, dropping him. The second guy spun around, aiming his gun, but Danny swung the barrel into the asshole's mouth.

The suspect grabbed his face, gasping in pain, dropping his weapon in the process. Danny swung the butt end of his M8 into the guy's ribs then finished him off with a kick to his skull.

Breathing hard, he scanned the corner, checking for anyone else then hurrying back over to Steve.

Wiping sweat from his face, Danny knelt next to him. Steve's chest heaved along with jerky, rapid breaths, his hand a fist against the bandage.

"Hey, buddy. How are we doin'?" Danny pressed his finger at the side of Steve's neck and felt the rapid pulse. "Okay, you're doing okay."

He checked the bandages under Steve's tight fist, but they were pretty soaked through with blood. "Damn it."

Okay, Steve rode around with ordinance in the Camaro's trunk and a survival kit under the backseat. There had to be more inside his medical kit. He rummaged through the rest of it: scalpel, sutures, antiseptic. Wait, Quick Clot. Yes, yes.

He sent up a prayer for Steve's obsessive nature.

"D'nny?"

Danny peered down at Steve. "Yeah, Babe?"

"You've….you've got to stop…the test..."

"I will."

The clock kept ticking, because if that damn weapon was used, there would be no medevac flight.

Where the hell was the rest of the team?

"Okay, just let me have a peek."

Danny moved Steve's hand and bit his lip. He normally wouldn't remove the bandage, but his gut told him Steve was in real trouble and needed extreme measures. Danny peeled back the first bandage. The exit wound wasn't clotting. He swallowed hard. "Babe, I've got….you know I've got to stem this bleeding."

When he glanced down, Steve was staring back at him. Steve nodded weakly, encouraging him, trusting Danny. Because Steve was a SEAL, he knew the procedure.

Using his fingers, Danny cleared the wound of blood, Steve's legs jerking in response. "You're doing great. And look, we're doing it again. Owing each other."

Opening the packet he poured the powder into the wound, the chemical absorbing the blood and kick-starting the coagulation. Danny ignored Steve's panting for air, finishing quickly.

He applied a fresh bandage, running a finger over the adhesive tabs when he heard static from a walkie talkie. Danny froze, resting a hand on Steve's good shoulder to lend reassurance. The sound faded away.

Danny felt fingers brush against his arm and he looked down in surprise as Steve gripped his shirt "Hey. What is it?" he asked, leaning down.

"You've….got to stop…the test…."

"I will," Danny said, reaching for the second bandage. But the entrance wound wasn't bleeding as much as the exit one, so he didn't touch it.

"D'nny..." Steve started pushing at Danny's arm but it lacked any strength. "D—"

"I am. Okay. I am. I just…" Danny just wanted to make sure Steve didn't die on him in the meantime. Steve kept trying to urge him to leave and Danny shook his head, nerves, fear, anxiety all pumping adrenaline through his veins. "Yes, yes, I'm going to fill your big dumb need to be a hero. Excuse me for taking a moment to make sure you don't bleed to death."

Danny continued worrying, wishing he had something to prop Steve's legs with to help prevent shock.

But there was only one thing he could do. Taking the deepest breath he could muster, Danny bent over and squeezed Steve's knee, then he pulled Steve's Sig out and placed it in reach. "I'll be right back."

Danny checked his watch. The minutes were slipping away.

* * *

Danny had one goal. Destroy the stupid weapon. Of course he had to find it first, and damn it, what if this was still all a hoax? What if he was wasting his time searching for something that didn't work or didn't exist, while he left Steve behind on the dirty fucking floor of a warehouse?

Gripping his weapon tighter, Danny listened at the crackle of a walkie talkie. His shoulder brushed the wall as he walked closer toward the sound. Coming to a corner, Danny crouched, peeking around it. He saw what looked like a small armored vehicle with a giant radar dish attached to it.

The vehicle was parked in another loading area with an open garage door. Were they going to drive it outside? Danny didn't even know how it worked.

A crackle of static echoed to his right. Danny turned in the direction of the noise. Three men walking from the other side of the loading area looked over at Danny and-froze.

Fuck.

All three men scrambled to pull out their weapons.

Danny already has his pointed in their direction. Using the side of the wall for cover, he aimed and pulled the trigger. A few of his shots took out one guy and the other two scattered.

Adrenalin pumping, Danny kept both targets in sight, even as they took off in opposite directions.

Danny fired at the moving blob to his left as he ran after the guy running toward a set of yellow plastic containers, the suspect firing in Danny's direction.

Danny dived to the floor, rolling twice, before coming up to one knee and shooting through the plastic containers.

He watched as a body dropped to the floor, the guy's arms the only thing visible from where he'd collapsed.

Danny swung his weapon to the left, searching for the other suspect. He spotted him hobbling toward the EMP weapon.

No, no, no.

Scrambling to his feet, Danny gave chase. The other suspect struggled to stay upright.

"Freeze!"

Suddenly, a second person emerged from the front side of the EMP weapon while the injured suspect headed toward the back of it.

Danny couldn't shoot them both at once. But he could make sure neither of them activated the weapon.

Taking aim, Danny fired at the satellite on top, decimating it. His rifle made a clicking noise and he reached for one of the extra ammo clips attached to his vest.

"Drop it," one of the men said.

His fingers curled around the hard metal clip.

"Drop your gun or I will put a hole in your head."

Licking his lips, Danny allowed his rifle to clatter onto the floor, and raised his hands.

"You just cost me millions of dollars."

"Yeah, I'm real sorry about that."

A man in his early fifties stopped a few feet in front of him. "I'm sure you are," he said in a heavy accent.

That's when Danny noticed that the guy was carrying a sniper rifle; anger filled his belly. "You must be Colonel Psycho."

Dudaev had a thin frame accented by black cargo pants and a black shirt. His hair was thinning and he moved with a limp. He didn't look like much, but monsters came in all shapes and sizes.

The injured suspect made a horrible choking noise and started rolling back and forth, holding his side.

"I think he needs some first aid," Danny said.

Dudaev aimed his rifle at the other man and shot him where he lay in agony. Then he swung the barrel back toward Danny, leveling it at his chest. "Where's Commander McGarrett?"

Danny puffed air through his nostrils, not answering.

The left side of Dudaev's face twitched. That's when Danny noticed the scarring that marred his cheeks and down his neck.

"Where's McGarrett?" Dudaev repeated.

The rage in his belly started burning red-hot. "Is that what this was, huh? Some plot for revenge?"

"It took a month of recon and planning to complete this mission. Then several days ago, I turned on the TV, and who did I see giving a news conference?" Dudaev's nostrils flared. "The man responsible for two grueling years of hospitals and re-hab." He took a step closer to Danny. "Today was an unexpected bonus."

Danny swallowed hard against the heat in his chest and lungs, the need to beat the living shit out of this asshole. But he had to stall, had to give the rest of the team time to arrive, or to give himself enough time to think of a plan. "Did Wright put you up to this?" Because that bastard was next.

"Where. Is. McGarrett?"

The boil of anger made Danny's whole body tremble. "You killed him you sonofabitch!" Because Danny had no clue, had no idea if Steve had bled out alone while Danny was wasting time with this fucker.

"No." Dudaev shook his head. "I missed the headshot. " He gestured at Danny's hands, his lips curving into a grin. "But I winged him, yes?"

Danny stared at his blood stained fingers, biting his lip until it tore a hole through the skin.

Dudaev grabbed Danny by the shoulder and shoved the barrel of his rifle under his chin. "Commander McGarrett owes me a leg."

* * *

Dudaev had shouldered his rifle. He now pressed a Glock to the back of Danny's head, his other hand gripping Danny's shoulder, keeping Danny in front of him as a human shield. Dudaev reeked of cigarettes.

Danny kept his hands up, body tense, ready to strike Dudaev at the first opportunity. He tried walking in the opposite direction in which he came, but Dudaev caught on, moving them where Danny had left Steve.

"McGarrett!" Dudaev yelled.

Dudaev walked slowly, paranoid and jumpy. Rightfully so. Steve was a trained special operator, elite of the elite, but he was also badly injured, maybe even….No, Danny clamped down on his morbid thoughts.

"So, this whole thing, testing a weapon that could have killed a ton of people. It was all for a big pay day from some dark web auction?"

Dudaev snorted. "It's never been about the money."

And that only incensed Danny more, made his skin hot, a powder keg at the core of his being. He spotted the recycling bins, his muscles tensing, ready to fight with every fiber of his being…except Steve wasn't there.

All the hair along Danny's beck and arms stood up.

Dudaev froze, digging his fingers into Danny's shoulder.

It wasn't hard to deduce this was where Steve had been. His TAC vest was still on the floor next to the remains of the medical kit. Not to mention all the blood: puddled on the floor, smeared on the wall where Steve must have hauled himself upright.

Danny's heart thudded against his ribs, sweat pooled under his armpits. Danny knew Steve, knew the way he thought. He would have heard the firefight, heard Dudaev yelling, threatening Danny.

Steve's instincts to back Danny up would over-power his own self preservation. But Steve was hurt, badly. He'd only have enough stamina for one trick…

Danny swallowed. Steve would be close. Danny spotted the pallets he'd used for cover earlier, the drops of blood leading toward them.

"The one thing you bad guys always tend to forget when it comes to your evil plans." Danny licked his lips, breathing fast, increasing his oxygen. "There'll always be good people to stop you."

Trusting his instincts, trusting Steve, he yelled, "Now!"

Danny jerked out of Dudaev's grip, ducking and kicking out at Dudaev's prosthetic limb.

Three things happened almost simultaneously: Danny struck Dudaev's knee. The asshole stumbled, swinging his Glock around to aim it at Danny; and then Dudaev's body jerked, once, twice, as bullets struck his chest.

From one breath to the next, Danny watched Dudaev collapse onto his back.

Scrambling to his feet, Danny kicked the Glock away from Dudaev's hand. The man's body twitched as he gurgled blood, two giant stains spreading across his chest. He died in seconds.

Drawing in a stuttering breath, Danny saw Steve leaning against the pallets, the Sig gripped in his left hand.

Danny ran toward Steve and reached him just as his legs gave out. "Easy, Babe, easy." Danny leaned Steve against him, and lowered him toward the floor. "So, did they teach you to shoot left handed in SEAL school?"

"Yeah…third month," Steve mumbled.

"Of course they did," Danny said, trying to calm his thundering heart. "Come on, here we go."

Danny checked both bandages, the bad one near Steve's collarbone still held, the Quick Clot helping keep the wound closed. The entrance wound however had bled through the dressing.

"You can't do anything by halves," Danny growled.

He spotted the remaining bandage on the ground and ran and grabbed it.

Pressing the bandage against the injury, he mumbled and babbled as adrenaline thrummed through his veins. "The EMP weapon is destroyed, and no planes are going to fall from the sky, and Duke's mom isn't in danger, and Grace and Charlie are safe. Traffic going home will be normal instead of gridlock and possible looting, and cats and dogs living in together in mass hysteria."

Tears of stress and fear pooled in Danny's eyes. It was so hard to keep everything together, when all his brain and body wanted to do was to shut-down. He kept pressing on Steve's shoulder, kept talking and mumbling– suddenly he felt a hand brush against his arm. He stared down at Steve's pale face.

"Danny….it's…going to be…all right…"

When Danny heard Lou Grover's booming voice calling their names, he grabbed Steve's hand with the one not keeping him from dying, and gave it the hardest squeeze.

Bending over, he kissed Steve's cheek. "Cavalry's here."

Danny yelled at Lou to lead them over.

* * *

For the first time in days, Danny could relax. He didn't have to worry about mass destruction or worry about some insane ex-military colonel trying to murder his partner.

Having bought one of those colorful tropical plants, he carried it to Steve's hospital room, and set it on a table beside his bed.

Steve was sitting up, the front part of the bed at an angle for him to watch TV. His arm was in a sling, his shoulder heavily bandaged from surgery. He stared at the plant with a furrowed brow.

"I thought you needed something colorful," Danny said as he sat in a chair. "You know, to brighten up the place."

"I'm being discharged either tomorrow or Sunday."

"But you know this place is kind of dreary."

"Yeah, I have to agree with you there."

Feeling Steve's melancholy, Danny pulled the main reason for his visit out of his pocket. "Well, the thing is, I was thinking…"

"Oh, no."

Ignoring him, Danny placed a printed copy of the confirmation email he'd printed last night. "This is a reservation for next week for a resort on Maui. Seven days at a suite to do boring things like relaxing and ordering room service and people-watching with Grace, Charlie, and I."

Steve's jaw dropped, his bewilderment endearing and forlorn. "You bought me a vacation?"

"Well, Junior, Lou, and Tani chipped in, but yeah."

"Danny…"

"Look, we just had a really bad week. We saved the island, again, and some asshole with a grudge tried to kill you." Danny cleared his throat. "I know this rattled some bad memories, and well, you have a broken collarbone and a chipped scapula." In addition to two new bullet holes. "You…we, need a nice long, vacation."

Steve fiddled with the piece of paper without really looking at it. "Thank you. That sounds kind of nice."

"Good." Danny chewed on his bottom lip, reaching over to rest his hand on top of Steve's. He felt Steve's fingers still. "You…you scared me, man."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, there's no blame, Steve. If we don't do our jobs, people die. It's just…my heart's going to explode one day, you know?"

Steve squeezed his hand in return. "I know. Maybe I could chip in too, extend the vacation another week. I've got my reserve duty pay coming up."

"Steve…"

"It'll be worth it." Steve swallowed hard, his voice thick. "Every second."

Sighing in relief, Danny slumped into his chair. "Okay, good."

"And maybe we could get rid of our cell phones."

Danny smiled at Steve, at Steve alive and whole, and agreeing to take time off with him and his children. "Yeah, no cell phones or computers, or newspapers. Just sun, sea, and sand."

Steve snorted. "Did someone slip you some of my happy drugs?"

"No. Not at all."

Still smiling, Danny stole the TV remote and settled in for a quiet evening.

* * *

Fini-  
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Title from the lyrics for Snow Patrol's "Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking"

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